Back in the seventies of this century, I came out of the ground after a long sleep, feeling a crazed sensation of lust for that sweet deliciousness that always lures me even from the most determined final rest. I always joke about those moments, urging any creature that wants to continue living to be far from this deprived creature when he first wakes, for the worms and the bugs and the other unspeakable tendrils of thought that lurk deep within the soil are far too present inside this predator upon the first few views of the moon. Yet with only heavy sorrow within my dead heart I can tell you, until this thing that finally looks down with disgust at the dirt upon his skin and the layers of blood that have dried and dried again down his neck and chest, only thoughts of more.. dread.. lurk inside this ravenous mind.

Location: “...something about words...they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move they pierce your skin, enter your blood...Inside you they work their magic." -Setterfield

The young saplings bowed in limber supplication as the night wind howled through their branches, calling out to creatures in the shadows with a cautionary plea, "Prepare!" The earth itself groaned violently in assent, bursting forth in tiny fissures across the forest floor as all manner of winged and crawling being was awakened from it's subterranean slumber. A throbbing pulse of dread joined in harmony with the wind, beating out a rhythm with the coursing blood of all creation, as the long expected time of reckoning at last drew nigh.

He panted as he leaned against the tree. There, just a few hundred yards away, the castle walls stood white and grey against the green of the plains. Behind him, not nearly far enough off for comfort, he heard the dogs still barking. Once they caught his scent, he was a dead man. The inquiry would be merely a formality. The history of this land was pocked with the unjust treatment his kind endured. If he could only make it to the castle... Taking another gasping breath, he set out at a sprint for the castle walls. The dogs were suddenly much nearer than he'd hoped -- their barks were breaking the tree line. He had only brief moments before his goose was cooked. As he reached the castle, a small door appeared in the castle wall -- he darted through it and it shut just in time to keep the furious dogs from entering. He turned away from the door, and there stood a man. "You serve me, now," he explained, looking knowingly at the sweating, exhausted man.

Her impish features screw up in annoyance as she tosses the hot, faintly glowing liquid down her throat and slams the empty shot glass upside down on the wet bar top. She has fifteen minutes every night to take a break, and goddess forbid her bull headed boss allow them to spend it in the back. No, they needed to be seen, needed to mingle. To Hades with mingling, is what her churning sea foam colored eyes glare loudly to the interruption behind her as she spins around on the cushioned stool, but her lips, her soft little pink lips puckered in the smallest hint of a pout say something different.

"Five more minutes and..."

His eyes have already dismissed the little nymph before she finishes her sentence, the whining tilt to her voice more then enough cue to seek another. Without a word he has already turned away from her and how her heart reverberates in her small chest, already lamenting the tragedy of his departure. He was Adonis, not an imitation but the Adonis, exhumed and searching for a companion for the next four months.

"Fuck" she growls, her bright gaze following his lean, well muscled form across the club. She adjusts her silky green hair, tucking a few errant strands behind slightly pointed ears before hopping off the stool, her carefully woven seagrass chemise clinging wetly to her lush curves. Just as she starts toward Adonis, her plan to slick wetly against him and offer her companionship for, well, eternity if he would like, her boss grabs her by the silver collar curled about her slender neck and tosses her back into the shallow wading pools scattered about the club. "Back to work nymph," the minotaur carefully sounds out past his wickedly curled tongue.

The young detective stared at himself in the mirror, realizing with complete horror that the ultimate taboo of desire now surged through every vein of his being. What would his captain say when she learned he went to extremes to assimilate the vile creatures that now.. he was one of? It didn't matter, for his next thought was a deep need to know how good it would feel to have that gush of her warm blood pour through his lips.. as his eyes spoke silently into hers that his kind would wreak retribution upon the pathetic humans until their screams made the stars themselves rain tears upon this earth.

So there I was basking in the sun, feeling the cool breeze blowing gently across my skin, keeping me from baking as I lay upon the deck. The yacht was a charter, hired while on holiday in the islands, I have no idea about the thing works, but for a little more money the firm kindly supplied a guide, a rather handsome at that. It really seemed like some sort of dream come true, I pinched myself just to make sure I wasn't dreaming, how many times in your life do you meet someone that's won the lottery, let alone the millions to one shot that you will win it yourself.

I have to admit, at times I am a little confused about that ball of flame up in the sky that appears while I am nestled cozily in my protective box. Yeah, I spout on and on about how I hate that destructive old star, yet the truth is I have been filled with longing for that old foe for as long as I can remember. Ah, but all it takes is for my lungs to fill with air that was recently burned by it's fiery caress to flood my unmoving heart with terror, which always makes me flirt with the idea of once again digging my way deep into the earth for a slumber that usually lasts a handful of decades.

Devouring you would have been a blueberry festival once upon a time ago. The butterfly could be likened to a Metamorphosis, could it not? Valiantly they take to the skies in search of the morsels that will excite them most.

As the cheeky creature made her way through the doors of banishment, the creature who was once stained in blueberries (actually still was, only temporarily well hidden, due to an agreement he struck with the element of shadow) shook his head as his hand reached up to grab the lever speaking in a clear demanding voice, "I assure you, atonement can only be achieved once you have swam in the wonderfully set blue jello, below." Defiance flashed in those wild green eyes as the fanged one's hand squeezed around the lever's handle, knowing this one before him simply sought freedom so she could spread her rebellious cheeky ways throughout the realm. Yes, he may be dead and belonging only in the deepest pits of hell, but he also soooo madly adored that sound of lovely female flesh slapping below into the wonderful gelatin sea below.

As I lay there quivering I saw the sword had missed me by mere inches, was it some miscalculation by my foe or did he have something more sinister in mind. I leapt to my feet and stared at the stranger, the scantily clad girls I had been sent to find cowering in a corner as I once more pushed the offensive with my blade. We fought on valiantly trading blows as I began to feel myself tire, stilling my inner fear I took a deep breath and with a mighty blow was able penetrate his defence watching him slowly fall lifeless to the ground.

As I lay there quivering I saw the sword had missed me by mere inches, was it some miscalculation by my foe or did he have something more sinister in mind. I leapt to my feet and stared at the stranger, the scantily clad girls I had been sent to find cowering in a corner as I once more pushed the offensive with my blade. We fought on valiantly trading blows as I began to feel myself tire, stilling my inner fear I took a deep breath and with a mighty blow was able penetrate his defence watching him slowly fall lifeless to the ground.

Location: “...something about words...they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move they pierce your skin, enter your blood...Inside you they work their magic." -Setterfield

The forest is filled with long-toothed creatures, who hide in the darkness and sniff the air; yet somehow I venture into the shadows seeking the fangs of my Wolf. The lights and fires of civilization are fading as the night closes in, and the voice of dread whispers into that hollow just below my ear. I tiptoe through tendrils of fog, twigs snapping beneath bare feet, and ahead I see a clearing filled with moonlight; at last I have arrived.

Moonlight is a wild caress of silvery particles that is not really light, yet something that defies description as the eyes of those the walk the earth embrace it's unique properties as it whispers into what is surely a drop of the soul of this planet of rock and water that the gorgeous lunar goddess circles. As it's magical whisper touches softly upon a quiet being who tiptoes into it's hidden garden, it's first impulse is to flee.. wouldn't your thought be to do the same? Yet when that light that isn't a light feels the gorgeous flow of blood that is actually something different inside those veins.. a dark concoction that leaves it's written thoughts forever upon this little planet the moon adores with it's every rock and bit of dust.. it's path quivers and shifts, it's mysterious aura then wonderfully revealed.

Location: “...something about words...they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move they pierce your skin, enter your blood...Inside you they work their magic." -Setterfield

A voice so strange, and yet familiar whispers at the nape of my neck, "Come closer..." and I can't resist the invitation. What intoxicant floats on the silvery air I know not, as I inhale and against all sense, step into the clearing and instinctively close my eyes. May I...?" the question lingers as tingles of delicious anticipation glide along my flesh and I tip my head raising my arms skyward; perhaps I dance with the devil, but with such sweet music unraveling in my head, who cares?

"If you stare at the moon upon waking", the ultra pale creature assured the newly dead girl, "You will find that the veins inside you start to tingle.. then glow.. with her magic." What, she thought, so I can end up becoming a freak like you? What started as a simple dare ended up being a completely new life of death, darkness.. and that new crazy desire she couldn't stop thinking about.. sweet, beautiful blood!

Location: “...something about words...they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move they pierce your skin, enter your blood...Inside you they work their magic." -Setterfield

There is a certain variety of ink that seems innocuous, and is fairly unknown, but can infect the particularly susceptible soul who happens to come into close contact. Something of a strong spirit, the vapors and physical properties of this liquid darkness can transport the infected into a heightened state of nirvana, much desired, but thought impossible to attain. A rare concoction, the ink should be kept secret, kept safe, guarded against discovery to avoid cataslysm of epic intensity, and spilled only when the stars align, the moon is full, and the situation is truly desperate.

You know you've slept too long when upon regaining the flesh to a passable condition, the words that escape the lips are heard by those in the vicinity as absolute nonsense. Try as one might, a deep rub of the old eyeballs and a dig at those ears still doesn't make the vision or hearing any more real. For before long, that inner voice of supposed reason taps upon the skull from within, whispering how this.. silly vampire.. is the risked consequence of digging yourself into a hole.

Location: “...something about words...they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move they pierce your skin, enter your blood...Inside you they work their magic." -Setterfield

The young woman, appearing half scientist, half witch-doctor to the untrained eye, gazed upon the slumbering form of an ancient being, obviously kept in stasis by some magical force she could not yet decipher and that for all she knew could be prehistoric in origins. In truth, her library of knowledge did not contain the nomenclature for such a state, so altered was it from anything she had ever seen. She circled the creature warily, mumbling utterances in whispers no mortal ear could hear, and hoped her theory held some merit, and that thereby some manner of radiation would carry her words into the body, and wake it from it's eternal nap.

Mychron stared in the mirror for a few moments before deciding to plug what looked like a cellphone sized object into a small slot just below the wrist, clearly saying the word, "tincture", with a deep, natural sounding voice. There was aways deep inside, in the most remote file in his positronic brain, the indelible fear that adjusting his own settings would somehow fry his circuits. The inedible flow of that logic-lacking thought vanished as a touch of buttons and his hair changed from black to a pale brown.

When the moon is full and the atmosphere in exactly the correct condition, something in the way it shines can break the composure of even the most steadfastly civilized creature. Sends the mind spiraling down to a time when a bark was just as likely as a grunt. Ah but the onward push of evolution seemed to sponge up that trait both from occurrence and memory.

When that sweet inner syrup is infused with the essence of moonlight, the resulting substance has a slithering way of rippling it's way along all surfaces. A little known document at the Congressional Library, which only a handful of eyes have actually seen, speaks of this strange fluid. Allow me to say in a way not at all meant to be a brag that I held that precious old account in these very hands a very long time ago.

Location: “...something about words...they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move they pierce your skin, enter your blood...Inside you they work their magic." -Setterfield

They say there is an ancient one, with skin so pale and eyes so blue, that simply sight of him can wake carnal appetites heretofore unimaginable. These hungers begin faintly, as the whisper of a pulse beats in the darkest hours of night when mortals sleep -- and they steadily grow while darkness moves upon that pre-dawn air. I warn you, guard your eyes, and take care that your imagination does not run away with you, lest you saturate that first moment of wakefulness with a need so ravenous, you have no other choice but to buy all the blue jello to be had from every grocery in town.

Trailing a finger slowly down her sweet neck, the fanged thing willed the scattering drops inside her to not eschew their fate. Pressing lips softly upon the pulsating vein, that intoxicating concoction within told a story.. of taste and warmth and the full texture that would bathe the senses in ecstasy. Just as he was about to sink in to her scrumptious neck, a feathered creature with a long, menacing beak landed on her shoulder and let out a shrieking caw.